


Tinsel and Fishnet Stockings

by doobler



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Other, This wasnt really finished because i suck at closing stories, sexy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:30:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobler/pseuds/doobler
Summary: Man, I don't fucking know.





	Tinsel and Fishnet Stockings

“We need a fresh angle.”

The Fake AH Crew all looked up from their work, each member sprawled some way across the couches in Geoff’s apartment. Five pairs of eyes stared back at the Vagabond’s.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael spoke up, brows furrowing low.

“For this shake down,” Ryan explained. He leaned forward, propping his chin in his palm. “The Skullfuckers aren’t some soft namby-pamby bitches. They’re one of the most hardened Crews in the city. If we wanna get them to work in tandem with us, we gotta get under their skin and make them squirm.”

Gavin shuddered, eyes still glued to his phone. Beside him, Jack chuckled.

“I’m guessing you have something in mind?” Geoff droned, looking half asleep.

“Yeah, you could say that. But I need every single one of you to trust me without question.”

The atmosphere changed slightly before Jeremy threw up his hand.

“I trust you, Ryan.” He asserted, earning an affectionate smile in reply.

“You may be a fucking basket case,” Jack sighed through his nose. “But you know what you’re doing. I trust you.”

Michael nodded, grunting his affirmation.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Geoff pursed his lips for a moment, only to smile. “We’re in.”

The Crew turned to Gavin, waiting. The Brit visibly tried to shy away from their stares, drawing up his feet and curling into himself. Finally, he folded, looking more annoyed than actually upset.

“You creep me the fuck out but… I trust you.” Gavin recited.

“Excellent,” Ryan suddenly looked excited, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re gonna need a secluded cabin, a solid gold throne, a few hundred feet of tinsel, some jumbo sized chocolate fountains, and matching outfits.”

 

It was nearly midnight when three representatives from The Skullfuckers crew made their way to the far side of Mount Chilead. Usually, their gang was merciless, ruthless, and without patience. It’d been a slow month, however, so they acquiesced, giving into the whims of Los Santos’ most notorious up and coming Crew.

When they sidled inside the solitary cabin, three sets of jaws nearly dropped.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the structure were painted an unnatural white that seemed to glow. Long strings of tinsel and Christmas lights were hung across every exposed beam above them. A few tables were set up, covered in a wide variety of rich food and decadent sweets. Two enormous chocolate fountains stood out amongst the spread. The air smelled like cinnamon and cologne with a hint of bleach underneath.

At the opposite end of the cabin was an elegant looking throne inlaid with gold accents. Sprawled across the seat was the Vagabond himself. He was wearing a silken night robe, the color of blood, with fluff sewn into every hemmed edge. Underneath, he was sporting a tight romper with a deep scoop neck and shorts cut high. His legs were clad in dark fishnet leggings and he wore stiletto heeled boots. Puttering around the cabin was the rest of the Crew, seemingly subservient.

“What the fuck am I looking at.” One of the Skullfuckers finally spoke.

“‘Bout time you made it,” Ryan drawled from his seat. His legs were thrown over one arm of the seat in the most dramatic way possible. “I thought you’d gotten lost halfway up each other’s asses on the way here.”

The three representatives nearly jumped in their skin. They were so used to striking fear into their foes that the unrestrained sass was unexpected.

“What the fuck do you want from us, Vagabond?” Another demanded.

“What do I want?” Ryan tapped his chin mockingly. “I think… I want some grapes.”

On cue, Jeremy stepped forward with a tray. Like the others, he was wearing black dress slacks and a tight-fitting button up shirt, sleeves rolled at the cuffs and tie tied loosely. Instead of handing Ryan the tray, he grabbed the stem of the vine and fed Ryan a few of the dark purple fruit. He earned a sultry smile in reply, one that made the hairs stand up on the Skullfuckers’ necks.

“We want to strike up a deal with y'all,” Ryan let some of his Georgian roots slip into his voice. “Wherein we each have security on the other’s land. If we wander into your territory and you into ours, we should have no fear, comprende?”

“And why the fuck should we agree to that?” The final representative scowled. “We have far more turf than you fucking losers. We’d be losing our resources.”

At that, Ryan stood, shedding his robe and slowly making his way to the trio. He walked with deadly precision, like he was on his way to commit murder. He didn’t falter once in the heels that looked sharp enough to kill a man.

“We’re growing faster than you’d like to admit,” Ryan crooned once he was a mere foot away. “We have more power than you’d like to admit as well. Settle a deal or pay the price.”

Without even turning away, his gaze cold and menacing, Ryan snapped his fingers.

“Jack? Be a dear?”

Jack made his way over, his expression unreadable behind a pair of sleek shades. He offered Ryan a tray saddled with a single champagne glass. The Vagabond downed the drink in one gulp.

“Thank you, darling.” Ryan purred.

When he handed the drink back, he twisted to cradle Jack’s chin in his fingers. He closed the gap between them, sealing the younger Gent’s lips with his own. The kiss lasted what felt like a lifetime, close mouthed but passionate. It was hard to miss the way Jack leaned into the contact, the way he swayed slightly on his feet, the subtle turn of his head to deepen the kiss.

Ryan broke away, leaving Jack to scuttle back to whatever he’d been doing before.

“Send the message to your boss,” Ryan commanded. His voice was smooth, as if nothing had even happened. “Either we strike a deal or we snuff you out.”

At that, Ryan waved his hand, dismissing the Skullfuckers and settling back on his throne.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi over at drawy-things.tumblr.com


End file.
